Deamon glides back into the streets. A little lighter and more energetic than he had started. He continues his hunt. At least this time he is relatively certain the “victim” will survive, greatly opening up his options. It is only about as fun as one might imagine, making out with people that would kill you or rape you as soon as anything else.

He walks along gazing at the shop windows. He is not actually looking at any of the merchandise though. He is looking at the reflections, searching the crowd. He wants to feed more. He had been without during the long walk here and wanted more. 

He sees a woman looking at him. She seems well off, a wedding ring on her finger. She probably has quarters in the area. He looks away from the window and catches her gaze. She has a friend next to her and they giggle. He smiles charmingly and walks up to them. “Lovely evening,” he says, forcing his eyes to twinkle with hidden promise at the women.

They giggle again. 

He remembers why he finds women annoying. He is bored already. He decides that it is time to speed things along. He does not usually start this way, but he is not usually running from a bounty hunter either. He holds out his hand to the woman closest to him. “Deamon. It is ever,” he pushes a pulse of magic at the woman, “so lovely,” magic tightens things low in her, “to have the pleasure,” she is drawn closer to him, “of speaking with fine,” she is pulled into the depth of his eyes “ladies such as yourself.” She takes his hand, and she is his. He can do whatever, have whatever he wants and then the second woman takes his hand and she too falls into his power. 

They fall so quickly under his spell that they forget to even give their names. He does not care though. Just two more in a pool of hundreds. They pull him along the street, giggling and whispering, toward the residential side of the city. They enter a two-story brick townhouse.